Jungle
by toucan
Summary: A holiday flight is interupted by unwelcome visitors, leaving John and Alan stranded in the jungles of Belize - alone, out of contact and pursued by an unknown enemy...
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! Thanks for your patience – I have finally updated, hope you will enjoy. **

**Thanks to LittleMissBump for her Beta Reading skills – I hope you'll find both chapters much improved. Please let me know what y'all think!**

Jungle

"John? John!"

A blur of sounds assaulted him as he swam back to consciousness. John opened his eyes, groaned at the spinning world around him and shut them again. "John?" The voice held an edge of panic now and John managed to prise his eyes open. The world had stopped spinning and he surveyed their immediate surroundings. _I'm still in the plane, that's good. The plane's in tree. _ He swore loudly and creatively, to the relief of the voice behind him, that of his youngest brother.

"I'm OK," John ground out through gritted teeth. He couldn't say as much for the biplane. He tried to turn in his seat to look at Alan, but the tree beneath them creaked alarmingly so he stopped dead still. "Are you all right?"

"I hit my head." Alan's voice held a tremor. John struggled for words of reassurance, but as he glanced over the side his mouth dried up. They were eighty- no ninety- feet off the jungle floor. John swore again.

"Do you think we lost them?" Alan asked.

"I doubt they'll look down here," John said dryly, but worry gnawed at his gut. He couldn't hear the hum of the pursuing plane, but there was no guarantee they were not circling around to finish them off. "We need to get down."

Alan's bark of laughter was tight, nervous, "You're kidding, right?"

"You want to wait until they come back?"

A few beats of silence and then, "There's no way, John, no way…"

John reached up and grabbed one of the branches, "You've been climbing trees since you were five, it'll be a piece of cake." He broke off as the wind changed direction, forcing a cloud of smoke from the aeroplanes tail to pass over them. "Unless you'd rather wait here until the engine explodes."

Alan fell silent and John took a moment to reassess the situation – after all, bravado will only gets you **so** far. The plane was lodged nose-down at a forty-five degree angle in a fork in the trunk of the tree. It looked as if there were some sturdy branches surrounding them – in theory they should be able to climb out. John reached out again and the plane tipped alarmingly.

"John!"

"It's OK. It's OK," John managed, willing his heart-rate to settle.

"Like hell it is!"

"I thought you liked a challenge." Carefully, he took hold of the nearest, firmest–looking branch and began to slide his way out of the fuselage. He paused for a few seconds, breathing heavily. The plane stayed steady. "Are you coming?"He tried to keep his voice light, cocky, but it didn't quite come out this way.

"No way," Alan said more forcefully. John pivoted to look at his younger brother.

"It's OK, kid, come on." He tried to keep his voice steady, level. He needed to keep perspective here. Alan was only nineteen after all and not one of John's recruits. Alan was shaking his head as the plane made a sudden, dizzying lurch forward. John was pulled clear and for a sickening moment he thought the plane would plunge all the way to the floor with Alan still inside, but the descent was halted. John's heart was thundering like a jackhammer.

"OK," Alan said unsteadily, "I'm coming." He reached out for the hand John offered and pulled himself free of the plane slowly but with surprising ease. Cautiously, he made his way to a thick branch near the trunk and rested a second before turning to John. "That was close, I really thought—"

He was cut off as the sound of creaking branches and twisting metal heralds the beginning of the plane's final descent. As the plane crashed down through the branches at sickening speed**,** two thoughts flew through John's mind. Firstly, that they had just narrowly avoided a gruesome death and, secondly, that it was not his plane.

"Scott's going to kill us**,**" Alan said shakily, echoing John's second thought.

"Agreed,**"** John managed, trying to swallow though his mouth was completely dry. There was a heavy silence which John felt compelled to break. "Come on," he said grimly. "Let's get out of here."

He tested the branch carefully before stepping down, checking that Alan's progress was matching his own. Carefully, gently, they started to make their way down towards the jungle floor.

"Why do you think they shot at us?" Alan grunted.

"I have no idea," John replied, although actually he had several ideas. Take, for example, the fact that they were sons of one of the richest technology developers in the world – a prime target for hostages. Or perhaps their father had more enemies is Belize than he had realised when he had OK'd this jaunt. Or they'd offended someone (or Alan had , more likely). Or it was a case of mistaken identity. Whichever, they had been lucky to escape with their lives. If not for John's extensive pilot training and Alan's quick eye, it might have been all over for the second and fifth Tracy boys. Perspiration dripped into John's eyes, stinging. Of course, they had to make it out of the jungle yet. Their pursuers must have realised it wouldn't take bullets to finish them off out here. Alan paused for a second and John looked up.

"You OK?"

"Just peachy," Alan replied with a grimace. John noticed for the first time the fresh blood on Alan's temple, and the swelling starting above his right eye.

"When we get down I'll take a look at your head."

"It's fine," Alan replied with the conviction of a moody teenager. John didn't bother to argue, he looked down instead.

"I reckon about thirty feet to go."

"Is that all?" Alan muttered. He started his descent again and after a moment, John followed.

"We need to salvage what we can from the plane," John said, "We might need to spend a bit of time out here."

"Someone will find us," Alan replied confidently.

_Quite probable_, John thought, _but perhaps not the rescue party Alan has in mind_. He didn't voice his concerns. "The jungle's big. It might take a few days."

"Oh, man," Alan mumbled, "we wrecked the plane"

"With great style," John added dryly, picking through the still smoking metal with a stick. He paused to note the stricken look on his brother's face. "Relax! Scott'll yell, eardrums will bleed, and then he'll get over it. That's why we have insurance."

"Huh!" Alan was unconvinced.

"The more pressing problem is that we are stranded, in the middle of the jungle, with a day's worth of supplies and some murderous loons on our tail." John sighed deeply, and quashed his inner despair before turning to his brother with a smile. "Well, boy, you wanted an adventure".


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

They salvaged what they could from the plane, and then put out the engine fire with soil to stop the smoke signal attracting unwanted attention. John spent a good hour extracting the radio, black box and any other small mechanical objects he could get his hands on, whilst Alan hunted for branches and leaves to cover the plane from view.

This hadn't been the trip they'd been planning. It was rare enough these days that John and Alan got to spend any time together, what with their alternate tours of duty aboard Thunderbird 5, so when Brains had suggested upgrades to the Thunderbird 5's computers it had made sense they might use the time for a little R and R. It had been Alan who'd suggested South America – not too far from home in case of a call out, and a good opportunity to put in some flying hours. And John had agreed, managing to convince Scott to lend them one of his light aircraft for a bit of retro-sightseeing.

"_You be careful with her, she's an antique." _

"_Relax, Scott – she's in safe hands," John had grinned, holding up in hands in placating gesture. _

"_It's not you I worry about…" Scott cocked his head towards the lounge table, where Gordon and Alan had spread out maps and were already bickering over the best flight routes over the jungle._

"_Don't worry," John laughed, "I'll keep him out of trouble…"_

John paused in his efforts to extricate the radio from the wreckage. He was going to owe Scott something big for this. He wondered absently what his other brothers were doing now, back on the Island. Probably relaxing by the pool at this hour, not a care in the world. With a sigh, John beckoned Alan over and took a break from trying to lever the radio out of the cockpit.

"We were flying south-south east, so we need to track back the way we came. Got a watch?" John asked, waiting for a nod from Alan before continuing, "Then find north…that's our best chance."

Alan squinted up at the canopy, searching for some clue as to the direction of the sun. Light filtered through the green leaves, seemingly from all directions. Still, he was glad to be given a task. "I can make a floating compass – it won't take me five minutes."

John nodded to him, not breaking in his task of extracting the radio, but secretly he was impressed by his brother's ingenuity. He watched out of the corner of his eye and Alan filled a tin mug with some of their precious drinking water, and hunted around for a sliver of metal. Once he'd found something suitable, he began to rub the needle vigorously with a section of soft material from the hem of his trousers. It was the sort of skill Scott had been forever trying to instil in all his brothers – John was beginning to wish he'd paid more attention. But whilst Alan had been lapping up these little survival tips, John imagined he himself had been holed up in his father's study, pouring over astronomy books and calibrating his telescope for the next meteor shower. Still, John assured himself as he heaved the radio console from the plane and set it down in the leaf litter; he had a few skills that would come in handy out here too.

"Got it," Alan announced with a grin. He gestured towards the trees, "That's north…or thereabouts anyway."

"Nice going, kid.**"** John moved to join his brother.

"Piece of cake," Alan deflected the praise easily, removing the sliver of metal from the cup and downing the water in a single swallow. He gave a small grimace, pressing a hand to his head over the swelling that had started on his temple.

"Got a headache?"

"No," Alan replied immediately, but a glance from John told him his brother wasn't buying it. "Ok, yes! Slightly."

"Sick to your stomach?"

Alan sighed, "A bit, yeah"

"Any double vision?"

"How would I know? All I can see is about a million trees."

"I think you'll live," John said dryly. He stood up and brushed the leaf litter from his khakis. "Come on. We need to get moving."

"You want to take _that _with us?" Alan eyed the solid-looking radio console dubiously."It must weigh a ton."

"I'll carry it for now, you can take the supplies and navigate," John suggested.

"Aye, aye, Captain." Alan gave him a mock-salute, and strode off into the trees.

_Huh, _thought John as he heaved the rucksack containing the radio onto his back with a groan, _so much for R and R!_

_*****************_

Jeff Tracy was worried, that much was immediately obvious to his eldest son. Scott had returned from a tennis match with Gordon, discarding his racket on the couch as he moved to get a drink from the kitchen. On his way back into the lounge, Scott noticed his father drumming his fingers on the desk, an absent expression on his face.

"Something wrong, Dad?"

"Hmm?" Jeff seemed to return from his thoughts and settled his gaze on Scott. "John and Alan are about an hour late for their scheduled call-in, that's all."

"Maybe they lost track of time? Too busy having fun, I should think," Gordon put in from the sofa, where he'd flopped down a moment earlier.

Jeff allowed himself a small smile. "Alan, perhaps, but not John – I'd set my watch by that boy."

"Want me to place a call?" Scott offered. Worry was starting to nag at him too – in the four days that John and Alan had been gone, they'd never missed their pre-arranged call to base.

"Couldn't hurt," Jeff replied. Scott nodded and headed to the lobby, where all non-International Rescue calls were placed.

"I wouldn't worry, Dad," Gordon said, **"**Theywere planning a flight over the jungle today and they're probably still making their way back."

"All the same, they would have logged a flight plan at the airport, so we should know what time to expect their call," Jeff muttered, not reassured.

"Well the plane has a radio, couldn't we get Brains to give them a buzz?"

"Could do, but let's see what Scott turns up first." Jeff looked up as Scott re-entered the room."Whatnews?"

"Well, I called the villa and they weren't there, so I contacted the private airstrip. Apparently they logged a flight plan today, but they're more than two hours overdue on their scheduled return." Scott's brow was creased with concern."They're going to send a rescue plane out to search for them, but it's almost dark there."

"What about the radio?" Jeff asked.

"They say there's been no response for two hours. And I tried them myself – the radio either isn't working or it's switched off…"

"You think they're in some sort of trouble?" Gordon was sat bolt upright now, watching the look exchanged between Scott and their father.

"I don't like this one bit, Father," Scott said after a moment."I think I should get out there."

Jeff nodded, "Agreed. Take Tracy One – no need to draw attention to ourselves by launching the Thunderbirds yet, but I'll have Virgil on standby to launch Thunderbird 2 in case it becomes necessary. I'll alert Brains to monitor communications in the area, see if anything unusual turns up on the airwaves."

"FAB," Scott replied, already making tracks towards the door and heading for the silo that held all of the non-Thunderbird craft. Jeff watched him go, trying to quell the anxiety that gnawed at his gut. A dozen scenarios, each more concerning than the last, flashed through his mind. The radio on his desk buzzed, breaking him out of his reverie.

"_Scott to base – I'm ready for take-off" _

_That was quick_, thought Jeff, but then he knew that for Scott his brothers were his top priority. "Go ahead, Scott."

"_FAB._" Scott's voice came over the radio along with the distant whine of Tracy One's engine. "_Don't worry, Dad. Wherever they are out there, I'll find them" _

Jeff allowed himself the slightest of smiles; he didn't doubt that for a minute.

**************

As the second hour dragged into a third and then a fourth, John noticed Alan starting to lag behind.

"Come on, kiddo," he called, trying to keep the exhaustion from his voice. Their progress was slow, hampered by the thick vines that seemed to grow from everywhere, in all directions. Coupled with the intense heat and humidity, dehydration was already starting to affect them both. Not that water wasn't plentiful; they had already traversed one boggy swamp – scrambling from fallen trees to gnarled roots to make their way across – and nearly lost the radio into the depths of the murky water. They didn't dare wade in the water to cross due to the high concentration of parasite, leeches and poisonous fish lurking there. In another situation, John was sure he'd appreciate the beauty of this place; the awesome height of the trees, the rainbow flowers and fungi and birds of paradise. Although the sun was going down, the heat remained a steady 35 degrees and the humidity almost seemed to be climbing. John stooped to pluck a leech that had fastened itself around his ankle. _Oh yes_, he thought, _this is hell_.

"Shouldn't we think about making camp now?" Alan called back to him.

"Not yet"

"We've been walking for hours! I can't even feel my legs!"

"You know what Scott would say," John replied, recalling the long hikes they'd taken as children, "If you can whine, you can walk"

"Well, Scott isn't here and I'm calling a halt."

"Alan, we've barely made four miles. It's a long way to go yet and we need to make as much progress as we can"

"It's almost dark, we can't even see where we're going!" Alan protested. "There were some limestone caveswe passed five minutes ago that would make great shelter."

"You're probably not the only one who thinks so," John replied."Youknow this is jaguar-country, right?"

"Seriously? I thought there were hardly any left in the wild"

John nodded, "Yep, and pumas too. As well as about five-hundred species of birds, one hundred and forty different reptiles and amphibians, fifty-odd species of snakes and your old friends the crocodiles, too. Didn't you read the guidebook?"

"What did you do, swallow it?"

"I have a good memory for facts."

"Well here's a fact for you – we can't navigate through the jungle in the dark," Alan retorted. "It's bad enough trying to maintain a bearing in the daylight. We could miss civilisation by miles."

"OK, OK," John relented. He dropped the rucksack gently from his back with a sigh of relief. "We'll make camp here. It'll give me a chance to work on the radio."

Alan dropped his own rucksack to the floor, and flopped down next to a tree. Sweat was pouring from him and he paused to take a long drink from his canteen. They had water purification tablets, but not many so John was rationing the water carefully. Alan glanced around at the dense foliage and his heart sank – it was going to take them days to make any progress back to civilisation. John was already unpacking tools from his kit and laying them out next to the bulky radio console. His unflappable manner was starting to grate on Alan; the fact that Alan's head had not stopped throbbing in an angry tattooin the last four hours was not improving his mood.

"We're going to need to get going as soon as it's light again," John said. "We'llhave to make faster progress if we want to get there before our supplies run out**.**"

"Well, we could go a hell of a lot faster if we weren't carrying the damn radio!" Alan snapped.

"Hey, this radio may be our way out of here!"

"It's bust, John, face it. We are screwed."

"Oh ye of little faith," John bent his head back to examining the internal workings of the radio. "Our best chance is to make contact with the outside world."

"You know what, I wish Scott was here – at least he'd know how to navigate us out of a god-dammed jungle!"

John bristled at this comment, but laughed it off."He'd be too busy tearing a strip off you over the plane"

"Anyone would be more use than you! All you've done is tinker with that stupid radio – we're gonna die out here!"

"Stop panicking, everything is going to be-"

"Stop talking to me like a kid! Nothing is all right, John, nothing about this situation is all right"

"OK, you want me to lay it on the line? Yes, we're in trouble, big trouble. But we can think our way out of this, Alan, there is always a solution. If you panic, you have no chance of finding it."

"Logic is not going to find us a way out of here. It's not going to find us food or shelter. We've been walking for hours and we have no real idea where we're going. Do you actually have a plan, John, or are you just hoping you'll get that radio working so someone else can rescue us?"

John sat back on his heels, willing himself to keep his temper under control. His hot-headed little brother obviously needed to vent some steam, but he was distracting John from their one chance of real rescue. "All right, Al, you win. That's my plan. And unless you have a better one I suggest you help me, or at least stop being a brat and let me work**.**"

John was expecting a torrent of abuse, but Alan was silent. When John looked up again, he saw Alan's shoulders had slumped.

"You really mean that? _This _is your only plan?" Alan looked at him in disbelief. John nodded slowly, and Alan continued softly, "Butwhat if it doesn't work?"

John shrugged."I really don't know, Al. Satisfied now?"

Alan shook his head slowly and sank down against a tree, his anger spent. John felt a momentary twinge of guilt. For all his posturing, Alan had really been counting on John to get them out of here.

"I'm not saying there's no hope, kid, but I am saying that _this _is our best chance." He gestured to the radio.

Alan said nothing, just nodded and then closed his eyes.

"And I'll give you Scott, but you have to admit – if you were stuck out here with Virgil or Gordon, you'd be toast."

That finally raised a smile from his younger brother. It was true to say that John had an edge over Virgil when it came to electronics. John was about as unflappable as they came. Gordon and Alan probably would have been at each other's throats by now and struck out in separate directions.

"If we ever get out of here," Alan said, "I am never leaving Tracy Island again. I've had enough adventure for a lifetime."

"Amen to that," John agreed, and he turned his attention back to the radio.

**********************

"John!" Alan's voice woke him, close to his ear and whispering urgently."John, I think I saw torches."

"What?" John was awake instantly. He couldn't make out a thing in the dark, even as he squinted into the blackness."Where?"

"Back down the way we came. I heard voices too. I think someone must have found the plane."

"Stay low," John instructed. He strained his ears, but couldn't make out anything except for animal calls. The jungle was alive with noise at night. "I don't hear anything."

"I'm telling you, I heard them!" Alan insisted."Someone is looking for us, maybe a search party. We need to go out and find them!"

"A search party wouldn't be looking for us in the middle of the jungle in the dead of night. If there is anyone out there, my guess is they're our 'friends' from the K40 that downed us." Again, John strained his eyes and ears**,** searching the night for answers. Nothing was forthcoming. "Are you sure you weren't dreaming?" He whispered after a long few minutes.

"I wasn't dreaming!"

"OK, how's your head feeling?"

"My head is fine," Alan answered indignantly**.**"I'm telling you I saw torches and I heard voices. Someone is out there, John, I swear it!"

"OK, OK, pipe down. The last thing we want is to draw attention to ourselves."

Another five minutes passed and still John saw nothing. "Look, Al," he said finally, "I know what a place like this does to your mind. And you've had a hell of a concussion to add to it. It's not surprising that you're seeing things."

"I'm telling you I know what I saw!"

"I know what it's like believe me. The first time I went up into space I could have sworn-" and then John saw it, a light through the trees. And a voice cut through the air, too faint for John to be able to distinguish the language but most definitely human. Another voice replied, even further off.

"You see! You see, I was right!" Alan hissed.

"Quiet," John hissed back urgently.

"There's a whole group of them! We've got to move!"

"If we move, they'll hear us and we have no way of defending ourselves. We need to lie low."

"We're sitting ducks here!"

"Alan, for the love of God, keep _quiet!_"

"They're going to kill us, John, I mean really kill us!"

He couldn't tell if it was nerves or the head injury that was making Alan talk like this, but John knew it had to stop. He clamped a hand over Alan's mouth, "Sorry, Al," he apologised. "Butif you don't stop talking then _I _am going to kill you, OK?"

Alan nodded and John removed his hand. He was expecting to get a glare from his younger brother, but all he read in the younger man's eyes was fear. He gave his brother's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. At least their would-be capturers were far away, at least for now. They were well hidden in their camp site, surrounded by a thicket of vines and shrubs. But that was no guarantee they wouldn't be discovered if anyone chose to come their way…


End file.
